and i play it on repeat
by dorkickassmeadowes
Summary: "She giggled, a lazy and quiet giggle that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Sirius closed his eyes. He wanted, what he really wanted, was to freeze time. To just be there, in that moment, with her, with everything exactly how it was, forever. Slowly, he heard her creep from the sofa, and lie beside him." blackinnon one shot


**author's note: modern!au blackinnon listening to the arctic monkeys' album AM. someone suggested it on tumblr, i don't even know anymore. **

**disclaimer: don't own any of it. i especially don't own the arctic monkeys (but ****_oh, _****if i did...)**

* * *

"Look what my brother sent me!" she dropped the record into his lap, and he squawked, like he was some kind of bird and someone had stepped on him.

"You sound like a pigeon," she said seriously, perching on the arm of the sofa, but he ignored her.

"AM, McKinnon!" he yelped, "Fucking AM!"

"_I know!_" she grinned, "_I fucking know_!"

"How in the name of Merlin's bollocks did he get a copy?"

"Friends in high places, I s'pose," she mused, "Light up then, let's have a listen."

* * *

"Stuff's in my bag," Sirius nodded towards his leather rucksack (_that he never wore on both shoulders, oh no, he was __**far **__too cool for_ _that_) and she jumped off her perch.

"Fucking hell, Black," she said as she opened the bag, "what have you got in here?"

"I dunno, just _stuff - _where's the record player?"

"Lily got sick of the Carly Ray Jepsen, I think she hid it…try a _Revealio _or something."

"Right," he replied, clearing his throat, "right, yeah, 'course. _Revealio record player_."

It appeared, hidden under a stack of Lily's Muggle classics, and Sirius moved _The Great Gatsby. _With a wave of his wand, the record began to play.

Marlene threw the packet of cigarettes in his direction.

"Smoke up, kid."

"With pleasure."

* * *

_Do I Wanna Know?_

* * *

She shuffled uncomfortably, and he turned his head towards her.

"Stop fidgeting, fuck's sake."

"_Sorry. _It's slower than usual isn't it? This song, I mean."

He turned away from her, and put a cigarette between his teeth. They were lying on the matted rug that lay in front of the fire. She had soot coating the end of her long hair.

"Good though."

"Mmmmm," she murmured, "_crawling back to you_."

"Don't sing."

"Fuck you."

* * *

_R U Mine?_

* * *

As the first twang of Alex Turner's guitar sounded, Marlene bolted upright.

"Circe, I love this one! _I'm a puppet on a string_ - fuck, fuck, dance with me, Black, c'mon!"

"I don't-"

"Don't dance my arse, get on your feet, on your feet!" She clambered up herself, waving her arms around like helicopter blades, fast and dangerous. The ash fell to the carpet like snow, and it was only when some dropped worryingly close to his hand that he stood himself.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon - _are you mine tomorrow - _do the falsetto, go on, go on - _mine tonight?_" She took his hand - it felt like an electric shock.

"McKinnon…"

She spun round, and he laughed because she looked ridiculous. Dear, ridiculous McKinnon.

When the song finished, she collapsed down onto the sofa, cheeks stained red from exhilaration. He chuckled, and sat next to her.

"Now, now, dear," he imitated Madam Pomfrey, and she stuck her tongue at him, "don't overexcite yourself."

"Wanker."

* * *

_One For The Road_

* * *

"Have you got anything stronger?"

"Stronger than what?"

"Like some Gillyweed or something, I dunno," she shuffled on the sofa, and dropped the stub of her cigarette into an empty cider bottle. Sirius, from his place on the floor, waved a bony hand.

"Peter bought some a few days ago, check the front pocket."

"Front pocket of what?"

"Of my bag, you idiot - what's this one called?"

She leant across him to get his bag, and her hair tickled his face. He didn't complain (_he didn't mind, but he'd rather die than say it_).

"One for the Road," she told him, and then added, in time to the falsetto, "Woo-woo."

"You sound like a train."

"It's Matt Helders' fault."

He closed his eyes as she shuffled back onto the sofa.

"Makes me think of you," he mumbled, "this song, I mean."

She laughed.

"Soppy bugger."

* * *

_Arabella_

* * *

If she hadn't got a spliff in her mouth, she would've jumped up and danced the moment _Arabella_ started. "This is going to be my favourite," she told Sirius, and blew a smoke ring.

"You can tell already? It's only just started - give us a go on that."

"Get your own!" she laughed lazily, "Mmmmm, I can tell already. Some songs you just _know, _don't you?"

"Yeah, I s'pose."

She ran a hand through her hair - a habit she'd picked up from James.

"Sounds like T-Rex," she said, "this whole album."

"We've not finished it yet," he grumbled, but she wasn't listening.

"_She takes a dip in my daydreams_," she sang quietly, under her breath. Sirius shuffled up onto his elbows so he could get a better look at her.

_Take a dip in my daydreams, McKinnon_, he thought, _go on. I dare you_.

* * *

_I Want It All_

* * *

Marlene relinquished her iron grip on the Gillyweed half way through track six.

"What do you want?" she asked him, tapping her feet along to the song. He loved her feet. They were long and thin and she had a scar up her ankle from a Quidditch accident when she was twelve, and they were _alive_. She was alive.

_You,_ he thought, _I want you_.

"I dunno," he replied, taking a drag on the spliff, "Everything."

"You wa-a-ant," she said in sing-song, "it a-a-a-ll."

"Yeah," he half-whispered, "something like that."

She giggled, a lazy and quiet giggle that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Sirius closed his eyes. He wanted, what he really wanted, was to freeze time. To just be there, in that moment, with her, with everything exactly how it was, forever. Slowly, he heard her creep from the sofa, and lie beside him.

"I want it all too," she mumbled in his ear, "we could have it all together."

* * *

_Number One Party Anthem_

* * *

The opening chords sent shivers down her spine. Or maybe it was the closeness, how close she was to Sirius, their breaths mingling and the same cigarette being passed between them.

"I feel like this would be so much better," she said sleepily (_it was late, and they were only half way through the album_) "if we were under the stars."

His arm, which she was lying on, chin resting on his chest, twitched.

"I fucking hate stars."

"How can you hate the stars, boy?" she asked, cocking her head to one side. His eyes were still closed. Beautiful boy, she thought, beautiful Sirius.

"Toujours pur," he whispered, and she understood. _Quasi leo rugiet_. Roar like a lion. Sometimes it weighed round her neck like a millstone.

"I see, beautiful boy," she rested her cheek against his chest, and listened to the steady thump of his heart, "I do see."

_C'mon, c'mon, c'mon_, sang Alex Turner, _before the moment's gone_.

* * *

_Mad Sounds_

* * *

"Do you dream?" she asked him, breaking the silence they had lapsed into during the end of Number One Party Anthem. His eyes snapped open.

"What the fuck, McKinnon?"

"I want to know if you dream," she said, "this is a song for dreams."

"Merlin's bollocks," he pulled himself up on his elbows, "remind me never to get stoned with you again. You're far too introspective for my liking."

"You haven't answered my question."

"I'm not going to answer your fucking question," he said, "chuck us a can of cider, will you?"

"I dream," she told him, lazily pulling out her wand from the pocket of her robes, "_Accio cider - _I dream of loads of things."

"I'll bet you do," he replied, catching the can with a lazy grace she'd never encountered before, and never would again.

"I dream of you," her words were slurred, and neither of them would ever remember her saying them, "I dream of you and me and the war. Mostly of you."

Sirius started to hum along to the song. It was slow, but it was good. It sort of felt like standing on top of the Astronomy Tower, the feeling of the wind whistling through his hair. "What about me?"

"Just…just you."

Her head was still attached to his chest, despite his semi-upright position, and she weighed him down, like getting caught on a rock when you're swimming in the sea. She was drowning him.

"I dream of you too," he said.

* * *

_Fireside_

* * *

It sounded different from the rest of the album, with it's driving drum beat and the way it made her want to spin around.

"We should get up," she mumbled into his shirt, "and dance. We should dance to this song."

_I'm not sure if I should, show you what I've found_, sang Alex Turner, and Sirius shuffled up onto his elbows.  
"Yeah," he said, "yeah we should."

_Isn't it hard to make up your mind? When you're losing, and your fuse is fireside?_

They struggled to their feet, cigarettes still in hand. Marlene's was burning the tips of her fingers, but she didn't care. How could she care, when she was dancing with Sirius like this? When the stars were shining through the window like this? She didn't care, she didn't care.

"You're a terrible dancer," she took a drag on the fag, and he pulled a face, and flicked his hair out of his eyes.

"You're hardly Beyonce yourself."

She laughed, and sang under her breath.

_And your fuse is fireside._

* * *

_Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?_

* * *

They sank back onto the sofa, and she noticed dully that her hair was sticking to the back of her neck. She was sticky with sweat but in the same way that she was when she came off the Quidditch pitch. Bloody Arctic Monkeys.

"I like this one," he blew smoke rings, "the video's fucking mental, but I like it."

"Alex Band Guy," she remembered, laughing softly.

They lapsed into silence again, and she lit another spliff.

"I should've written to you," Sirius said suddenly, and she glanced up at him through her long eyelashes (_thank you, her mother's side of the family_).

"When?"

"Summer after fourth year. I should've, and I didn't, and I'm sorry."

He'd never apologised to her before. She rather liked the feeling of power it gave her, like he was _her's_.

"After we kissed?"

"Yeah. After that. I didn't. I should've done."

"I thought you were a member of the 'should've, would've, could've' gang?"

He paused, cigarette half way to his thin lips.

"Not when it comes to you."

She smirked.

* * *

_Snap Out Of It_

* * *

_"_Jazzy, this one, innit?"

"Mmmm."

She sank back into the pillows. She liked the feeling of him next to her, she realised, not even touching, just…sitting.

"Want a drink?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"Nah, nah, I…_Merlin_, I want something to eat."

He barked like a dog.

"You lightweight! I never get the munchies 'til dawn!"

She rolled her eyes and buried her head in the arm of the settee. Hunger rumbled in her stomach like thunder.

"Fuck off and get me some sweets."

He paused for a moment, and then, slowly and a little awkwardly, he patted the side of her head.

"As you wish," Sirius got to his feet, and crept away, humming as he went.

* * *

_Knee Socks_

* * *

When they were sixteen, the summer holidays between sixth and seventh year, (_only a year ago, but it felt like forever_) they'd gone camping together. In the heat of the hottest summer on record, she, Mary, Lily and the Marauders had gone down to Tinworth for the weekend, on the pretence of staying with Mary's grandparents (_the girls excuse_) and with Peter's sister (_the Marauders' excuse_) respectively. It was one of those hazy weekends she felt that she might've made up, a cliche from someone else's life. The plan had been to sleep on the beach, but of course that went to shit when they realised you couldn't build a tent on sand. You couldn't build anything on sand.

So they'd gone up onto a cliff, overlooking the sea, and put up two tents. One was stolen from James' parents, and had a bathroom and radio, and the other belonged to Peter, and had a little oven that Lily made pancakes on on the Sunday morning. After they set up the tents, they'd run down to the beach, and Marlene had stripped off to her bra and knickers and swum out until she was neck deep in the ocean.

"I'M THE STAR OF THE SEA," she shouted out to them, "THIS IS WHERE I'M SUPPOSED TO BE!"

They'd laughed, and most of them had flopped down on the picnic blanket to sunbathe, but Sirius had swum out to her. Laughing, with water clinging to her eyelashes and her make up running, she had kissed him. It was on impulse, and in full view of everyone, but she didn't care. It was too hot to care. The water was too cool to care. She was the star of the sea, in the sea, and why shouldn't she kiss a boy if she wanted to?

"Stars are meant to shine, McKinnon," he'd told her when she pulled away, "you're meant to be in the sky."

"I can shine here," she insisted, "I shine here."

He tilted his head to one side, and muttered "Yeah. Yeah you do."

But before she could respond, before she could call him a soppy bugger, he splashed her.

Hours later, when their legs got weak and they got too much sea water in their eyes, they swam back in and lay down on the sand, side by side.

"It's too hot," she complained, "it's too fucking hot."

"Ah, you'll be complaining in an hour," he remarked, "when the sun goes down."

She didn't reply. The sand was so soft under her fingers. Funny, glass could rip you to shreds, but sand left no wounds.

"I left all my stuff in the tent," she replied eventually, "I'll have to freeze to death."

Sirius climbed to his feet. "Nonsense, McKinnon," he laughed, "you can wear my t-shirt."

It was this that she thought of when she listened to _Knee Socks_.

* * *

_I Wanna Be Yours_

* * *

Sirius ignored the yells of the Fat Lady, and scrambled back into the Common Room. Marlene was sprawled in front of the fire. Her eyes were closed, but she had a lit cigarette in her hand, so she wasn't asleep. She wasn't so stupid as to sleep smoking.

He threw a Fizzing Whizzbee at her.

"Oi!"

She opened one eye.

"You took your time."

_I wanna be your vacuum cleaner, breathing in your dust._

"House elves were sleeping; I had to find all this shite myself."

_I wanna be your Ford Cortina, I will never rust_.

She sat upright, and ran a hand through her hair. "D'you get me a Liquorice Wand?"

_If you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot_.

Sirius smirked, and swaggered over to her. "Course I did."

_You call the shots, babe. I just wanna be yours._

"Hand it over then."

He obliged, and she wolfed it down so quickly it made him dizzy.

"Blimey, you got it bad."

_Secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought_.

She scrunched up her face at him, and opened the Fizzing Whizzbees.

"I like this song."

"I thought you hated love songs?" he asked, and she shrugged.

"Yeah, well. I like this one."

_Maybe I just wanna be yours, I wanna be yours_.

Sirius sat down, so their shoulders were touching. She burned, like the fire they were sat by.

_Let me be your 'leccy meter, and I'll never run out._

"Album verdict, then?"

"It's not finished yet!" she exclaimed, "let it finish!"

She paused, and swallowed her mouthful of chocolate. "But yeah, it's good. It's good."

"They're a great band."

_Let me be your portable heater, that you'll be cold without._

"He's a poet," she sighed, and he nodded.

"Although," Marlene continued thoughtfully, "this is a John Cooper Clarke poem."

"John what-what?"

"Manchester, performance poet. Muggle, probably."

"Probably?"

"He has that air," she mused, and bit the head off a Fizzing Whizzbee.

_I wanna be your setting lotion, hold your hair in deep devotion_.

"Great album, regardless."

She nodded against his arm. The fire crackled and burned, and they lapsed into silence.

_At least as deep as the Pacific Ocean._

He sang along with the last line.

_"I wanna be yours."_


End file.
